


All doorways locked

by Illidria



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Implied Child Abuse, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, Swearing, Violence, teens running away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-03 17:28:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14001015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illidria/pseuds/Illidria
Summary: Living in a golden cage and being fed with a silver spoon was never enough for her. But alas, she'd never expected that the new man hired to work in her families gardens would be just what her heart needed. And it was not these two things clashing that made their lives miserable, but others finding out.





	All doorways locked

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys,  
> here we have another prompt-fic, from NorthernWall (seriously, go check her out! LivMiles god-tier fics), send via tumblr.
> 
> The prompt is here:  
>  _Hi! How about 17. “You realize the gate was unlocked, right?” and 41. “You’re a really bad liar. It’s kinda sad, actually.” for young Olivieer? :)_
> 
> So, in this one you get not yet of age LivBucc, who have to fight her awful family and run away together. Original, right^^ I'm sorry dear, I don't know why I gave these super-funny sentences such an angsty spin... it’s almost like somebody...ruined...me...;)  
> I hope you like it though and: Love you!!!

"Down!"

Headlights illuminated the wall they'd stood in front of only seconds ago, the sound of its engine echoing in the canal. Only when it stopped Buccaneer straightened again, helping her up and dusting her off.

She shrugged his hand from her shoulder.

"That was close. You really think this is the best route?"

Spoke quietly with him, while they both started to move forwards again, as quickly as their weary feet and heavy backpacks allowed them to.

"Yes. It's dangerous, but we'll be out of the city in half an hour more and in good company.

The cold air burned her lungs when she exhaled.

"And we'll be safe there?"

Saw him nod, heard his teeth chatter because of the cold.

It had been no news to her that her parents would not like him. Knew as much when she'd taken his hand first, a surge in her heart urging her to. Was aware when he'd kissed her behind the shed in her families’ garden. Still would not have thought for her father to react like he did, when finding them in the groove by the pond, her kissing him behind a weeping willow.

Had pulled her away from Buccaneer forcefully, the bruise on her arm so deep that it was still, almost two months later, easy to see. Her father’s walking-cane, more a matter of style than of age, had bashed down on the young man’s body, who only had one arm to defend himself. Something her father had pointed out angry- and repeatedly, berating Buccaneer for "seducing his gullible daughter" and "taking advantage of his soft heart", screaming about "cripples being offered the pinkie and taking the whole arm".

Only after several minutes she'd been able to free herself from his grip, getting between Buccaneer and her father, the former able to flee.

"Liv...", his voice was soft when he turned to her while walking. "Liv, if you have seconds thoughts, if you want to go back..."

She scoffed.

"You wouldn't hold it against me?! Listen big guy, I'm here because I want to be here, you know what happened after all!"

Moved a bit faster, ignoring the pain in her feet, taking his hand and walking ahead with a sure step.

For a whole second it seemed like Buccaneer wanted to protest, a sigh dying on his lips, before he walked with her, stunned into silence. Her name slipping from his lips almost like a prayer.

"Liv..."

She'd not thought him to be capable of sighing when first confronted with the young man her father had hired to bolster up their army of gardeners. Well, her father had said he'd hired him, but in truth it had been head-gardener Selmy, maybe pitying the young man with his so apparent handicap. He'd worked diligently, smiled a lot and was a two metres tall log of a man, though a year younger than her.

She'd walked through the gardens often since her father had claimed her education to be sufficient half a year ago and as such talked a lot with the people working there. Had until then proved herself to be adept at scaring the suitors her father brought forward away, even though his current silence had only strengthened the fear inside of her. And right into this fear Buccaneer had barrelled, climbing clumsily over the garden gate that separated the pond from the rest of the property.

_"You realize the gate was unlocked, right?”_

He'd smiled cheekily, she'd done the same, hours later wondering why. Had talked with him more and more often then, his words not particularly charming, but honest instead. Talked to her about his family, where he came from and his troubles. How he was thankful for the bed and the work, the food in the morning and in the evening. That he was glad that a real doctor had by now looked at his arm, that the head-gardener had offered him better pay, once he could compensate during work for being one arm short.

And she'd somehow found that horrible, that he was thankful for what all should have _at least_ , and he'd seen that and showed that he felt the same about it. Their mutual unhappiness with the circumstances helping them bond, as well as their humour, their appreciation for the sky above and the possibility of the status quo changing. Had told him of the school she'd been forced to attend, how small-minded many choose to be, that once she's started to rebel, her father had her home-schooled. That she was to choose a suitor, drink tea and have a son soon.

He'd blushed at her notion of a suitor, a shade of red she liked somehow, granting him a smile.

Both ducking again behind the stone-wall when a light ghosted over the walls of the canal, the sound of their breathing, their steps, masked by the water running next to them.

"You think they're already searching for me?"

His breath so close to her cheek, one of the only slips of skin exposed to the harsh cold of winter, warming her heart despite it all.

"The second they found your room empty. But we'll be out of sight soon, will be..."

Breathed with him, the smile coming unbidden, yet not unwelcome.

"Free!"

When the light vanished they walked on again, quickly, the moon above them almost at its highest point.

While Buccaneer had fled the premises quickly after her father had found them, bleeding quite heftily as far as she’d been able to see, she’d not been so lucky. Her father had berated her, scolded her and ultimately, as it always happened when she roused his anger, beaten her.

Buccaneer had often noted the bruises barely hidden by the hem of her sleeves, had once asked her if she’d not be safer when marrying a suitor, far away from her father. With a face she kept devoid of emotion she’d told him that she knew a good man when she saw one, that her little brother was one, her grandfather had been one. That he was one.

But not one of the men her father had brought before the family, always warning them, unwittingly baiting some, of his unruly daughter.

And after Buccaneer had fled, she locked up in her rooms, fear had gripped her. Wondered if her father was hunting for the man she trusted with all her heart, or if he maybe was talking one of his friends into marrying her. Was even more afraid when thinking of the possibility that her father was doing both of these things at the same time.

But when she’d one night stood at her window, looking out over the gardens, the tall trees so far away from her, a light had glinted. Periodically it had flashed, her brain soon catching up and memories of Morse code rushing forth, afternoons of playing spy with her grandfather. Scrambled for pen and paper then, with pencil wrote down what messages were send to her.

Had answered in kind with a candle, hiding its light with a book, the whole exchange taking only minutes, but giving her strength.

And then one last line he’d send to her, which she’d written down diligently at first, before fully understanding it.

.. / .-.. --- ...- . / -.-- --- ..-

_I love you_

Everything from the paper she erased, except for this one line, a feeling having her in its grip that she could barely explain.

Like her heart had lodged in her throat, constricting her ability to breath and making her eyes water. Her feet feeling like they’d been filled with lead, her body rooted in place, again looking out over gardens she could see from her windows, however dipped in darkness they were.

Had heard feet shuffling along the hallway, hastily blowing out the candle and hiding the slip of paper in her dress. Had lain in bed, feigning sleep, when the maid peeked inside.

Excitement rushing through her at the words he’d send her, the knowledge that she could be free of this prison soon, could be who she wanted to be, together with him! He, who loved her even though he knew that she was so ignorant of the outside world, that loving her could put him in real danger.

Loved her, even though he knew that he’d forever have to do it in secret, that they’d forever would have to hide.

“Follow me!”

His voice alarmed when he pulled her into an alley, the heavy boots of a patrol walking past, the stench of the canal behind them for several minutes. Felt his chest heave where she was pressed into it, her own blood rushing in her ears, nervousness and fear running through her, but also determination.

She’d taken her grandfathers sword, the one he willed her to have when he’d died, and if it was for their freedom, she’d use it.

Tried not to think of the anger that would be aimed at her siblings, her little brother bringing her some of his clothes when she feigned the want to play dress-up with him. Her eldest sister bringing her the sabre, claiming that she had to keep on training, so she could impress a future husband. How they’d surely be scolded now, having unknowingly helped her escape, her disguise the ill-fitting clothes, sabre and jewellery and only little else stuffed into a bedspread, subsequently stuffed into a backpack when climbing over the gardens wall.

Tried not to think about what fate the maid would await, if her parents ever found out that she’d not bolted one of her windows shut properly.

Buccaneers breath brushing over her skin again, warm and moist, the rest of her body instantly feeling less cold. His one hand winding around her while they both caught their breaths and reined in their fear when the heavy boots of the military police walked right passed them, quieter with every moment that passed.

“Where to now?”

Her voice a whisper, one of her hands searching for his successfully, squeezing once.

“Not much further. Our lift is waiting at the end of this borough.”

They got going again, alert, once even overhearing someone listening to their radio with an open window, the news blaring into the cold streets and right into their ears.

_“The eldest daughter of Philip Gargantos Armstrong, head of the renowned Armstrong family, has most likely been kidnapped. Evidence at the Armstrong Manor suggests that several people have worked together to abduct her from her rooms…”_

She tried not to listen anymore, wondering instead if this was truly what her father believed. She’d smashed the window on her way out, muffling the noise with her pillow pressed to it, a trick she’d seen from the caretakers of the manor as a child. Had indeed aimed to make it seem like an abduction, though only to protect those that had helped her.

Had taken jewellery too, one or two expensive trinkets to be sold, just so they could have a start together. Knew that her family would not miss this stuff, would never need it either, able to buy such things anew without a second thought.

Buccaneers hand squeezing hers and his smile pulling her eyes.

It was hard to tell in the darkness of the night, only the occasional street-lamp illuminating his face, but his dark eyes so often fell onto her face with such kindness in them, she felt her heart to be close to bursting. She always liked to think of herself as strong, as independent as one could be when brought up in a golden cage like she’d been. But that he’d helped free her, was willing to take her with him, wherever that was, had so quickly devised a plan to help her escape the torture her life was…

Her free hand searched for the necklace she wore, a pendant gifted to her by her grandmother, when she was still too young to wear valuable things. It was a small cylinder made of wood, if twisted right a compartment popping out. She’d hidden the only words he’d send in her Morse code in there, the slip of paper rolled up and close to her heart.

Felt this warmth surge through her again, the very same she’d felt when he helped her climb down the wall at the back of their property. When he hugged her tightly for a while, telling her how happy he was that she was as alright as the circumstances allowed. The bruises on his face not having faded, though there was a plaster on his forehead and a smile on his face.

Felt it again when he tugged on her hand excitedly, pointing towards a cart at the other side of the streets. Pulled her with him, greeted the man in the coachman’s seat and then urged her to climb into the back. Let her help with pushing down his own backpack, such things complicated with only one arm, which quickly wound around her, trying to shield her from the cold.

Their journey bumpy and quiet, several times the military police passing them on horses and in cars, though they seemed to be spared little thought.

Her words whispered to him.

“Why are they not searching us?”

His voice surprisingly soft when he lowered it to a whisper.

“Our coachman is well-known in the city. They must think we are his stable-hands.”

Her own curiosity now getting the better of her, adrenalin subsiding a little.

“Where are we going?”

“An Ishvalan encampment about four miles from the city. I made a friend from there while running errands. He’s helped me with sending you the messages too and planned your escape with us.”

She nodded, making a mental note to thank all those involved with her, _their_ , escape.

“You were send so far out on errands?”

The moon shone down on them, not offering her enough light to truly appreciate the blush that was now surely creeping over his face.

“The people in the camp are growing good vegetables and Mr. Selmy wanted some seeds…”

A small laugh escaping her, alleviating some of the heaviness in her heart.

“You’re a really bad liar. It’s kind of sad, actually!”

A gruff, if supressed, laugh escaping him, having heat rush to her cheeks.

Both quiet for some time, before Buccaneer spoke up, voicing something that seemed to have been on his mind for a long time. The air immediately thick around them, tension building.

“I can not offer you anything Liv, except for my life. I have nothing but a few good friends and all that’s in my backpack. I…”

She knew that her head falling onto his shoulder would raise suspicion, seeing as she was dressed like a man, even though they’d not been passed by anybody for quite some time now, but her hand squeezing his knee had to make do, paired with an honest smile.

“Cut that crap. You think I want you for your money? Your status? Or because you helped me escape?”

His gaze shocked at her earnest words, though he waited with more patience than she’d have mustered if in his stead.

“This garden-wall was no match for me, nor my window, or taking what I’d need to survive. But I always thought that I was the one thinking differently in a world of people seeming to only care about themselves. And then you came, barely having enough and still willing to share. Being kind to me, so hopeful when I couldn’t be.”

Their cart now amid a small forest, more and more lights appearing and growing bigger with each sound of the horse’s hooves.

“I knew since that day when I took you hand that I loved you.”

Felt his hand searching for hers then, like hers back then had been searching for his, the squeeze she received strong and tender at the same time. Smiles exchanged, gazes that said more than words.

And before they could blow their cover and kiss, people were calling out to their cart.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, this story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors. The goal of it is to make commenting easier for readers and to increase the feedback writers get. As such, I invite you to leave:
> 
> _Short comments_   
>  _Long comments_   
>  _Questions_   
>  _Constructive criticism_   
>  _Reader-reader interaction_   
>  _extra-kudos as <3_
> 
> I cherish all comments, weather they be long or short, even only one word makes me squeal with happiness after all. And if you’re seeing this fic ten years after I published it, don’t worry: Old or new, I’ll still love what you left me to read <3 I answer to all comment btw, though it sometimes takes me a day or two. Should you not want me to answer, just write _whisper_ in front of it.  
>  I thank you for reading this fic of mine through to the end. As I said, I appreciate all comments and kudos and should you want to get into direct contact with me [this is my tumblr](http://illidria.tumblr.com/). There you can get into discussions with me, or even send in wish-fics.  
> Happy reading and thank you <3


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